Raising on the River
by RochelleRene
Summary: Just a big ole one-shot where House and Cuddy first get together way back in a post-"All In" scenario.


**I'm waiting for another plot to strike me, and in the meantime I just keep writing about Huddy sex. LOL. This is PWALP – Porn With A Little Plot. I'm a sucker for the ones where they first get together; I love those moments where each realizes the other loves them back. I decided to do a post-"All In" scenario.**

**If you liked "Housewarming," you'll like this. I'm getting back to my roots. LOL. If you did not like "Housewarming," close the window. ;)**

**Little hidden shout-out to my fellow fic-er, allthingsdecent and our funny pet peeve words as penners of porn. (Yes, I categorized you as a smut writer, ATD.) Thank you for helping me embrace the C-word a little more with every thrust-filled fic. LMAO!**

**I also need to thank vicpei1 and mysteryGAB for their request for a sex scene on House's famous Le Corbusier chaise lounge… Hope I didn't disappoint you, ladies.**

[H] [H] [H]

House and Wilson were playing cards, continuing the banter of earlier in the evening, but House was getting distracted. Cuddy was moving around the lobby socializing. He kept watching her, graceful and elegant, gliding from person to person. He was so preoccupied, Wilson actually started winning. "Don't ya just love raising on the river?" Wilson said happily, gathering chips. "You think it's all over and then the cards fall your way. And your opponent is too far in not to come along for the ride." House merely grunted in response to a great philosophical metaphor, which cued Wilson that something was up.

"What's going on?" Wilson asked, turning to trace House's gaze. "House," he said in a cautioning tone when he noticed Cuddy laughing with someone.

"Hmm?" House asked, barely aware of his friend.

"Not tonight, House."

His eyes slid back to Wilson. "Not tonight what?"

"It's been a long day. Lots of emotions with that case. Lots of alcohol and fun."

"Thank you for the recap," House replied sarcastically.

"You're feeling impulsive because you solved Esther. You're feeling powerful. Megalomaniac House is dangerous."

"I saw your ten dollar raise, Wilson. I'm not plotting world domination."

"No. You're calculating your odds with something else."

House narrowed his eyes at him. "The odds that you'll shut up and play cards? Slim to none."

Wilson shook his head. He'd done what he could. He wasn't gonna hold the man down. But he wasn't surprised when Cuddy walked into her office and House suddenly folded and told Wilson he'd be back. Wilson sighed as House rose from the table, walked across the lobby, and followed her in.

Cuddy looked up when House entered. She was gathering her coat and purse.

"Home so soon?" House asked her.

Cuddy looked at her watch. "It's closing in on midnight. Don't want to turn into a pumpkin."

"You mean you don't want your dress to fall off." Cuddy paused, raising an eyebrow at him. "The coach turns into a pumpkin," he clarified. "Cinderella just loses her dress."

Cuddy fought back a smile, biting her cheek a little. "Well, in that case I really better go." She laughed.

"'I'm having some people over to keep playing cards. Thought you might wanna come."

Cuddy looked at him skeptically. "Some people?"

"Well… Wilson," he admitted, grinning. "And a few others."

Cuddy nodded, considering the invitation. "Why do I have a sneaking suspicion the deck will be stacked against me?"

"Hey," House said, holding his hands up in mock surrender, "I just want your money." They stared at each other and House decided this was the moment to bluff. '"It's up to you, Cuddy. I just didn't want you to feel left out when you heard about it Monday morning." He smirked. She smirked back. And he turned and walked out. Cuddy watched him walk over to Wilson and felt more confident when she saw them both gear up to leave. She didn't know he'd simply told Wilson he was taking off and Wilson was heading home. House wanted to sit home, drinking, thinking, waiting for the possible arrival of Lady Luck.

[H] [H] [H]

House opened the door to see Cuddy, luminous and smiling broadly, excited for the fun to continue. He grinned at her, opened the door wider, and made a sweeping gesture for her to enter.

Cuddy's stilettos tapped across the wood floor as she went to drop her purse and coat on a nearby chair. "Where's Wilson?" she asked, looking around.

"Not here," House answered, matter-of-fact about the issue.

"Why not?" she asked, her defenses rising a bit.

"I didn't invite him." He met her eyes, still grinning.

"House." She took a breath. "I'm not going to sleep with you," she warned him, though in his tuxedo shirt with rolled up sleeves and dangling untied bow tie, she was dangerously unsure of that.

"Good," he replied. "Because I'm not going to sleep with you." He walked past her into the kitchen. Cuddy noticed he was in bare feet, even in his formalware, and found it so cutely House. He raised an empty glass at her in inquiry. She hesitated, then nodded.

"Then what's this about?" she asked, sidling over to the poker table and running a finger along the edge.

"Not sleeping."

Cuddy stared at the deck of cards, waiting to be dealt. House let his words sink in as he walked quietly up behind her. She felt him, so close his breath skimmed her neck. She stood motionless, then his arm circled her waist and handed her the drink. She took it and he backed away, dropping into one of the chairs, slouched a bit with his long legs bent and spread.

"House, I think I should go."

"Oh come on, Cuddy. I'm teasing you. If I teased you at work you'd have a witty retort and we be off and running. Don't get shy now," he pleaded.

"At work, there is no chance of you actually seeing my ass or my boobs or any of the other parts you choose to ogle and comment on."

"So there's a chance here?"

"House…"

He met her eyes, smiled. "What?"

God, she loved him. Truth was she wasn't totally caught off-guard. Though she'd expected Wilson and "a few others," she had wondered on the drive over how she might finagle things to be the last one standing, alone with him in his apartment. The question was why. Did she want him, or did she just want to know how much he wanted her? And she knew defining it all merely as "wanting" was further deflection.

"Shut up and deal," she told him, dropping into the other chair.

House smiled widely down at the table, taking the deck and making a production of shuffling it thoroughly, to show her he hadn't, in fact, stacked things against her.

"So," House began, dealing. "What's it like going through years of medical school and residency, then never doing anything effective with it?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

Cuddy looked at her cards. "It's pretty great," she answered. "What's it like being born with a soul, then never doing anything effective with it?" She glanced at him, grinning.

"Efficient," he answered. "No need to bother with all that reflection and moral deliberation nonsense. I had the thing excised, in fact. It's an out-patient procedure."

Cuddy anted up. "So you've redefined ethical laziness as efficiency. How nice for you," she remarked. "More time for porn and substance abuse then."

House smiled widely. She made him make facial expressions that hurt his face from underuse. He anted and raised. "And doctoring," he whined. "You make me do a fair amount of that to get my porn and drug money."

"Oh, right. Doctoring." Cuddy saw his raise. He dealt the turn. "I forget that's what you do because I didn't specialize in diagnostics." Cuddy raised the bet and a brow. "I never had to take those fancy-schmancy 'bounce a ball on your cane' classes."

House saw her raise, then dealt the river. "Those are vital diagnostic tools," he replied.

"You're a diagnostic tool."

She raised again, he saw it, and Cuddy won the hand. "Ha ha!" she cried jubilantly, sweeping the chips toward her. He watched her do a small triumphant shimmy and wanted to keep her there forever. She was joy personified.

Cuddy took the deck and shuffled. "How _do_ you do it?" she asked seriously.

"What?" he asked, enjoying the chance to just sit in a chair and watch her move.

"Like, you bounce the ball, or stare at the board, or twirl your cane, or twist the rubber band," she said. "But what is going through your head? Lists of diseases? Bodily systems? Timelines of symptoms?" House was quiet. He'd never really thought about it, mainly because no one had ever really asked him this question. Cuddy began dealing. "Maybe you don't really know," she said. "I was just curious about what goes on in your brain."

"Sometimes it's right there," he explained. "Like when a word escapes you. At the edge of your mind."

Cuddy nodded. "Tip of your tongue," she offered as House anted and raised from the get-go.

"I thought you wanted to talk about my brain," he said, flirting. Cuddy smiled shyly, saw his raise. House continued, "And then I just need to… relax. Let it surface. Other times I am really at sea… until I'm not." Cuddy dealt the turn and he raised again.

"What do you have to do when that happens?" she asked, seeing his raise again. She was bluffing and he knew it. She had a tell. She'd tap her left index finger on whatever it was touching when she was being cagey.

"Relax. Wait for the epiphany." He waited for the river, then raised again.

"So basically you just need to relax a lot," Cuddy summarized, laughing heartily.

House laughed with her. "Hey, it doesn't come as easily as you might think," he told her. "My mind does not relax easily, even if my body does."

"I get it. Porn for the body, Vicodin for the mind," she commented. "Wait… Is that supposed to be the other way around?"

"You in or out?" he asked her. Cuddy tossed her chips in, and raised. "You're bluffing," he accused. She shrugged and widened her eyes at him.

"Maybe you are," she countered.

House saw her raise. "Show 'em," he ordered.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours." Cuddy teased, biting her lip. House had to shift in his chair a little.

He threw down triple aces. Cuddy threw down a pair of fives and complained, "How do you always manage to get so lucky?"

House gathered his chips and snickered. "Someone once told me it was the combination of my honest eyes and brilliant mind."

Cuddy became very still. She didn't know why he'd throw that out. It all seemed so transparent, but she didn't know how far his bluffing went, and she didn't want to make an ass of herself. "Wrote that down in your diary, did you?"

House gathered the deck again, but slowly, taking his time. "No need. Burned in my brilliant brain." He met her eyes, each of them searching the other for some sign that they were moving in the same direction, that they weren't completely misreading each other.

"Sorry I ruined you for all others," Cuddy teased. "Makes all the hookers seem like a real waste of income."

House cut to the chase. He was curious. "Have you slept with a lot of men since then?" He dealt. She anted. He saw it. Neither of them had anything.

"Yes," she told him, defiant, despite her surprise at the question. She was not going to play the sad, pining debutante in this little scenario. "Have you slept with a lot of women?" she tossed back, knowing the answer.

"Yes," he admitted. The turn; the river; she folded.

She decided to wrest back a little control. She grinned at him and without an ounce of detectable hesitation or shyness asked, "Was I your favorite?"

"Yes," he answered immediately. Cuddy gathered the cards. She laughed, her dark curls bouncing. The throaty sound of her laugh and the twinkle of her eyes just did him in. He wanted her so badly.

"Like I can believe that anyway," she teased.

"It's true."

"Mmm-hmm," she murmured, beginning to shuffle again.

"I remember you," he said. And suddenly he was on his knees, at her feet. Cuddy was taken aback and she dropped a few cards on the floor in her flustered state. House 's hands slid up her legs, pulling her dress with them. He stopped right at mid-thigh and she felt him tap a finger against her inner left thigh. He was looking right at her face though, studying the way her lips parted and her breath caught.

"You have a birthmark right around here. Crescent-shaped. Just slightly darker than the rest of your skin." Cuddy was barely breathing. His hands on her thighs were making her shake with desire. "I remember seeing it when I kissed your thighs. Thought about teasing you about it," he confessed. He bent his head and placed his forehead against her knee. "But I didn't want to stop kissing your thighs." She felt his breath skimming down her shin. She was dying. House retrieved the three stray cards and handed them to her as he returned to his seat. He looked at her, his own mouth slightly open, his breath heavy. "I remember you, Cuddy. And you were my favorite."

He grabbed the deck from her and dealt as she tried to compose herself. He nodded at her that she needed to start, and she scowled at him. "You can't just do that, House!"

She saw a hint of smile, that sexy smile when he was trying to conceal it.

"I think I did just do that, Cuddy."

She sighed shakily. "You can't just… touch my legs, my skin, and then go back to things like it never happened." She looked up and met his gaze. He licked his lips a little.

"Can't, eh?" he replied evenly. "I thought that's what you wanted all these years… For me to pretend I had never touched you." She inhaled sharply. House felt ever more confident. "Never kissed you." Cuddy bit her lip and shifted in her seat. House set the cards down and bent toward her a little, propping his elbows on his legs. He was looking up at her now and he appeared boyish, like the House of twenty years ago. "Never writhed between your legs."

Cuddy stood up abruptly, one hand on her forehead, the other smoothing her dress self-consciously.

"I have to go," she told him, her tone struggling to sound both emphatic and casual.

"Why?" he asked her. He scooted his chair closer to her, sitting in front of her and taking one of her hands. He kissed it, back then palm, holding it to his lips while he repeated, "Why can't we do this?"

Cuddy was shaking. Her fingertips felt the stubble of his face; her palm felt the heat of his mouth. She started to pull it away, but when he let her, relaxing his grip, she couldn't. She looked down at his face and traced his lips with one finger, his hand still loosely holding hers.

"I shouldn't have come," she breathed.

"But you did." He closed his eyes as she trailed her fingers over the rest of his face, touching the lashes and lines that she'd always admired from afar.

"I shouldn't stay." But she stepped a little closer to him.

"You still haven't told me why." He was whispering now, overcome by the touch of her hand, the smell of her so close to him.

"You'll hurt me."

There was silence and he released her hand. He placed both of his hands in his lap. "By that logic, you shouldn't go."

"Why not?" she asked him.

He looked up at her, her hand still against his cheek. "You'll hurt _me_," he confessed.

Him admitting it, admitting that she had any emotional hold over him, was thrilling. She wanted to affect this man, to be the one who got through.

"I thought you had no soul," she teased, still breathless. Her teasing let him know, there was a waver in her seeming resolve. She didn't want to leave any more than he wanted her to. She wanted him to beg her to stay. He was willing to entrap, cajole, hell, even guilt. But would he trust her enough to beg for her?

He put his hands on her hips and pulled her still closer. He laid his head on her stomach, feeling her breath move in and out of her. "I have a soul," he told her. "It's just very tiny." Cuddy laughed and holding her body while making her laugh was incredible.

"A tiny seed that just needs some tending, eh?"

"Hmmm. I'm getting my metaphors confused here because I'm distracted by my erection. My _soul _is very tiny, just to clarify."

She laughed again and he ran his hands up and down her sides, feeling the silky fabric that hugged her skin. "I remember your very tiny soul," Cuddy teased. "I remember it all as well as you do."

He looked up at her. His eyes were both lustful and pleading. "Stay."

She blinked and waited. She knew he wanted her. He'd never even hid that, really. But she wanted to know she was special, that he wanted her in a different way. She searched those clear blue eyes for something tangible. Then he delivered it right to her. He stood up, circling her in his arms. He looked down at her. "Please. Stay…. Please."

Cuddy made a noise, a sort of vocal gasp. Her mind was still equivocal, though tipping quickly toward trusting him with her entire heart. Her body was decided, though. Her sex quite literally ached for him, distracting her from everything else, including her logic and habitations. House took the sound as a good sign and bent to kiss her. Her lips closed around his bottom lip, and she ran her tongue along it slowly. He stopped breathing entirely. Then he parted her lips and began exploring the whole idea of entering this woman, his tongue sliding into her mouth to taste her for the first time all over again. One hand splayed across her back, pulling her tighter to his chest, and the other wove into her curls, supporting her head as he deepened the kiss and she surrendered to it.

Cuddy felt the strength of him, his large frame supporting her as she felt her knees buckle slightly, her body giving way along with her will to resist him. He was strong and solid against her, but careful and meticulous, not overtaking her during this delicate moment. He was holding back and she knew it. He didn't want to scare her away. But still, his hand found the zipper on the back of her dress, and carefully slid it down. Then House, still, kissing her - slowly, slowly working his lips around every space of hers, tasting her mouth in a way that only made her think of dirtier things - went back to the base of her neck with his fingers and trailed them down her back again, sending shivers over her skin as he parted her dress open, his fingers tickling all the way down to the top of her ass, to the crux of the spot where her tiny g-string became an enticing Y. The fabric crunched between them as their bodies pressed together, still joined at the mouth.

Cuddy began unbuttoning his tuxedo shirt. House broke the kiss and his stare bounced between looking at her face and watching her fingers work each button open. His breath was coming out in stilted puffs. He was excited by watching her undress him, and this, in turn, excited her. When she'd reached the last button, she slid her hands under the shirttails, sliding them over his belly and up to his chest, then down the flanks of his body, tucking her fingers in the waistband at the front of his pants. She looked at his body without hiding her admiration, studying the skin and muscle as she moved her hands over it. When they came to rest there, at the edge of his pants, she stared at the ridiculously conspicuous bulge every man had to deal with – some more conspicuous than others, she was pleasantly reminded – then smirked up at him.

"I don't remember a birth mark," she told him. Then she slipped one hand lower into his pants, running her fingers over him lightly. "But I remember this." House groaned, then laughed a little.

"I hope so. Kinda the star of the show."

Cuddy shook her head in disagreement, but closed her hand more firmly around him. The other she moved to the side of his face. He looked at her, dazed. "No. You were," she told him. "I never remember you in parts or moves or single sounds." She bent her face to his bare chest, bashful suddenly. "I remember all of you."

She heard him swallow hard and try to control his breathing. He took her wrists and pulled her hands to her sides. Then he reached for the straps of her dress and slid them down her shoulders. When her arms lifted out, he slid the dress the rest of the way down her body to the floor. And there she stood, in the demi bra and tiny panties that the dress required, all glowing skin and lines of muscle surrounded by softness. It was House's turn to unabashedly stare. "You're unbelievable," he said.

Cuddy smiled a little and bit her lip. She tilted her head down, but looked up at him with her eyes, deftly opening his belt and zipper. House took in a big breath, letting it out with a shaky sigh as he tried to decide where to lay her. But he no sooner had decided not to bother with the long walk to the bedroom – at least yet – when Cuddy dropped to her knees in front of him. Every muscle in House tensed up with surprise, anticipation, arousal, confusion… It was a fight-or-flight response but he neither wanted to fight her nor flee.

"_You're_ the one who wanted to pretend I'd never touched you," she said quietly. Then he felt her mouth on him, before he could think to argue or even process what she'd said. He felt the heat of her mouth, the mouth he had just slowly devoured, in a whole new way. He felt her hands sliding over his legs, moving as tenderly over the right as the left. His arms were slack at his sides, but absent-mindedly his hands found her hair and just felt it, this woman he'd longed for for so long, here, deciding he was worth this. Her mouth and tongue moved so beyond perfectly and he felt a coil of desire –building since he'd invited her over at the hospital - pulled tight, ready to be triggered. He didn't want to screw this up, but he didn't want to think about a distraction. He only wanted to think about her.

"Cuddy," he said. "You're really… You're killin' me." A warning. But she didn't stop, didn't even deliberate. She just lavished her attention on him with more precision and intention. He felt that moment of no return quickly approaching and one hand reached for the table, the chair, anything to stabilize him. The other found her ear, the beginning of her cheek, and just rested there.

Cuddy wanted him all night. If she was going to do this – cross this line and hold her breath for whatever was around the bend – she was going to make at least this second night together as memorable as the first, whether it left a foundation or a scar. And for some reason she was obsessed with the idea of just pleasing him initially. It wasn't completely altruistic. Doing this would leave the night wide open for rekindling fires. But it was also to help him see that he could feel this from someone again – her complete attention, with only the intention of giving him pleasure, not more pain. Maybe she was making a mountain out of a blow job here, but it felt important to her. She wanted to love him, whether he loved her back or not.

And the truth was, they were dancing a familiar dance here… a re-enactment of sorts. House, of course, remembered that unlocked utility room they had stumbled into at the dance twenty years ago. He remembered being taken off-guard, even then, at how this woman who played cat-and-mouse with him suddenly leapt in. That memory had fueled dozens of orgasms between then now, both alone and with others. He remembered gripping a shelf loaded with paper towels and Lysol, the way he now gripped his chair. He remembered then and felt now and he wanted this so badly that he just gave in. He groaned her name and Cuddy's hands skated up his stomach and she felt the muscles tense and she felt so powerful, even in this most submissive position. She felt like she owned the man. He felt like he was coming for ages. His brain hadn't had a respite like this in… well, ever.

He became aware of the world again, and the fact that Cuddy was in his, and he was so fucking happy. Nervous, worried about the possible fallout, but happy. He found her hands on his stomach and held them, pulled her up even as he was still gasping a little. She bit her lip and smiled at him. "Remember the closet?"

House made a face like he was wracking his brain. "The closet?"

Cuddy looked hurt. She actually pouted, making House laugh out loud. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her as close to him as he could. "Of course I remember the closet, you moron. You think a guy forgets when the sexiest woman he's ever known goes down on him in a utility closet with an entire drunken party outside the door?" Cuddy fought back a wide smile, then laid her head on his shoulder. He nuzzled her hair.

He took her by the waist then, guiding her to the chaise lounge. "I'll get you another drink," he told her. Cuddy sat and before he walked to the kitchen he just took her in, stretched out in lingerie on his chair, the curves of her body matching the curves of the chaise. Cuddy was nothing if not a sucker for his attention. She raised her arms over her head, gripping the top of the chair cushion, arching her back against the curve of the back. She let one long leg follow the curve to the end, and the other she dropped to the side of the chair, planting one sharp heel firmly on the floor. House moved his eyes over her as slowly and meticulously as he intended to move his hands. He offered a quiet appreciative moan and Cuddy smirked at him. He shook his head, as if to wake himself, and walked into the kitchen.

Cuddy laughed at the sight of him pants-less, but still in an unbuttoned shirt and loose tie. "I like your idea for the formalware segment. Very avant garde."

"Thanks. Now that you mention it, I was thinking of dressing up for work more." He reappeared holding two drinks, his shirttails flapping and his naked body totally exposed. "You know, for professionalism," he added. She admired his inability to be bashful or embarrassed. It allowed him to be silly and sexy at the same time, a near impossibility. He handed her her drink. She took it and sipped, still laughing at him.

Cuddy rolled a little to her side and House sat next to her, holding his drink in one hand and running the other up and down her body, feeling every square inch of her skin. He'd lightly skim over some parts – the valley of her waist, her calf – and push deeply into her muscles at other spots – her ass, the bottom of her foot. House downed the rest of his drink in a huge gulp, the ice cubes tinkling in his glass, then set the glass on the floor and maneuvered between her legs. Cuddy reached up and slid his shirt off of his shoulders finally, and he was completely naked man on top of her. Naked House on top of her. He reached behind her and unhooked her bra and the way she helped to shirk it off - tossing it across the room - reminded him that she was feeling the way he did ten minutes ago… Like she might explode from the desire.

House worshiped her breasts. That's the only word for it. His mouth and hands were all over them. His lips, still cool from the ice, closed around her nipples. His fingers glided over the smooth firmness of them. His stubble against her breasts was one of her fantasies come to life. She felt his tongue circle her nipple and it caused a spasm further down, causing her to buck up against his body. House 's mouth moved slowly up, tasting her neck. He ran his tongue along her collarbone. She felt him there between her legs, a tiny patch of fabric separating her wetness from his fully-recovered erection. He closed his mouth around her chin and Cuddy moaned and wrapped her legs around him. She humped up against him, miming the actions like a high school virgin in her bedroom with a snuck-in boyfriend. House moaned in response, dying to be inside her, but giving her points for her choice to allow him a little more self-control. He moved his hands to her hips, pushing them back down against the cushion. He felt her fighting his grip, wanting to be against him. "House, god," she pleaded. House kissed down her body, and even as he moved lower, she held his head, sitting up to curl over him. "Please, I can't… I can't think…" She was out of her mind. House's lips reached the edge of her panties and he bit the edge of the fabric, pulling it back a little and letting it snap back against her body in a promise that he'd help her.

Cuddy lay back, ready to bask in the feeling of his mouth on her. House pulled her down closer to the bottom of the chair, so her hips sat on the rise meant for one's knees, presenting her sex to him as if on a stage. Cuddy's body followed the dip of the chair back and House's chest pressed against the bottom plane of it. First he just moved the fabric covering her heat aside and tasted her, so lightly. Cuddy's whole body jumped at the touch of his tongue. She began breathing in and out with short breaths. He dipped his tongue inside of her and she moaned the most primal moan he'd ever heard a woman make. He kissed her lightly and pulled back, causing her to whimper. "I remember my car," he told her. Cuddy laughed even through the haze of desire. That was as far as they'd made it from the dance before needing to get frisky again. He'd chivalrously opened the door on the passenger side, waving her in. Once seated, he'd waited for her to buckle her seat belt, then he pulled the lever that caused the back of the seat to recline and she'd fallen backwards with a thunk. She'd laughed, thinking it was one of his silly little pranks. But then he'd pulled the lever that allowed the whole seat to shift back, and he'd crammed his long body into the space between the dash, hiking her skirt up her legs.

"You couldn't even close the door all the way," Cuddy laughed, remembering.

"I have very long legs," he protested in defense. "They wouldn't both fit. I'm proud I got that done at all."

"I can't believe I let you do that," she chuckled, as House took the strings that hugged her hips and slid them down her legs.

"I've always helped you walk on the edge," he teased.

She went to protest that she was fun and wild in her own right, but then he was parting her legs and his mouth was on her, kissing, sucking, licking, biting. House was all over her at first, delirious again at the turn of events. He was going down on her for himself at first, tasting her again, learning her again. He was lost in her hotness until Cuddy's eager sounds reminded him that this was about her and he focused. When he did, and his tongue passed over her clit with a specific rhythm and pressure, Cuddy's hands that had been absent-mindedly gliding over her own thighs, over his head, suddenly clenched the side of the chair. "House," she gasped.

He remembered her saying that in the car too. It was the first time she had said his name sexually, and he'd been amused and pleased that she'd stuck with the usual, not artificially switching to first names just because his tongue was inside of her. He pressed his mouth closer to her, sucking gently on her clit and letting go of the inside of her thighs so she could close them against his head. Instead he ran them over her belly and hips. She captured one in her own and clenched so tightly, digging her nails into the back of it. She felt a pulse starting in her then, like the clicks taking her up a roller coaster hill. Each pass of his tongue took her higher and she anticipated the peak with such single-mindedness she couldn't help but order him, "Yes. Right there. Don't. Stop. God. Don't." House liked to think the "God" was a pet name. He followed instructions and changed nothing until Cuddy cried out so loudly, he knew his neighbors were aware of his good fortune. Her hands grabbed the hair on the back of his head and he held her writhing hips in his own, feeling the rise and fall of her ecstasy with fascination and pride. She gasped and moaned and came back to him with luxurious leisure, enjoying the entire thing from beginning to end.

She sighed and looked down at him. He was looking at her, his chin resting on his hands, folded over her lower belly. He grinned a little and she wanted to be with him, live with him, marry him, have his babies, and other ideas Deans of Medicine didn't indulge. "That was… perfect," she told him.

"And I don't have a charlie horse in my calf, so even better," he murmured.

"Always thinking of yourself," she teased ironically. Her legs fell to the side of the chair, so she was lying back, straddling it. And House wanted to be the chair. She was lying there, so sexy and relaxed and open to him.

"According to Bill Clinton, we haven't even had sexual relations yet," he joked. "So we have that to look forward to."

She chuckled. "I'm glad we were so reserved and prudish. It'll make it more special."

House laughed. That was the thing. She was the only one who matched him. She said things he couldn't predict, made him actually laugh out loud, was unimpressed and unintimidated. She was interesting.

"I think this should be my new spot for thinking things out," he said, referring to his head lying between her hips. "Stuck on a case? I'll just come to your office and do this." It was more than a joke. He was feeling out if this would reach past tomorrow.

"Only if I get to bounce your ball," she replied, idly tickling the back of his head. He smiled to himself.

"Do you want food?" he asked, suddenly aware that she was a normal person and not a sex-obsessed drug addict that ate opportunistically. "I can't promise anything more than that it falls into the category of 'food.'"

She smiled, shook her head. "No, I'm good."

"Anything?" he asked. "I've been a terrible host," he joked. He looked up at her earnestly.

Cuddy considered. "You never gave me a grand tour," she told him. "I'd like to see your bedroom."

He smirked at her. "As insatiable as ever," he commented standing up and pulling her by the arm. He gestured at the room with a wide arc. "This is the living room, also known as the 'Cuddy seduction room.'"

"Nice," Cuddy replied, nodding. "Those are hard to find in this town," she commented.

"Tell me about it. I passed on a two bedroom for it."

"Wow," she replied, starting to giggle.

"Totally worth it," he said, tugging her hand to lead her down the hallway. "This is the hallway. Usually I use it to get from one room to another," he explained. "But sometimes it acts as overflow for the 'Cuddy seduction room.'" He stopped and pushed her gently against the wall and kissed her. One hand was on her hip and he bent to run his fingers deeply from her knee back up, then over her stomach. His other hand was in her hair and he pulled her head back, kissing down her throat, nipping at the spot where her neck became her shoulder. Cuddy was leaning against him, lifting her leg to wrap it around him. She wanted him so badly she was practically climbing him. She couldn't wait to feel him filling her. House tucked his arms under her ass and lifted her, pinning her between the wall and his body. And then he was inside of her. She heard him sigh in an exhale of such relief, she realized he couldn't wait either. Cuddy kept her legs wrapped around his body and moaned and cried each time he slid inside of her. "God, Cuddy," he groaned. "Can we do this forever?"

Cuddy released a laugh, punctuated with sighs and moans. "I mean… you have… a whole… room for it…"

Now he laughed. "Right… would be… a waste… otherwise." He didn't think he'd ever laughed during sex before. It was awesome. But awesome or not, his leg was starting to scream. He pulled out of her and lowered her gently, kissing her the whole time so she'd know this was continuing. Cuddy took over, pushing against his chest and guiding him to the bedroom. As they walked through the doorway, House pointed toward the bathroom and said "Baf-oom" against her mouth.

"S'nice," Cuddy replied into his mouth. She pushed him up to the bed and shoved him back on it. They were frenzied, but already naked, so all the excess energy was channeled in frenetic groping. House was grabbing her ass, her breasts, her thighs, her face, kissing her until he had to come up for air. Cuddy ran her hands over his chest and shoulders. "I want you inside me," she told him.

"I wondered if you still liked to talk dirty," he teased.

"Only with you," she confessed, straddling his hips with hers.

"If I recall, there's one word you don't like," he said, smiling. His hands were all over her and she was writhing against them.

Cuddy paused and narrowed her eyes at him, smirking. "It's growing on me," she replied.

"Pardon the pun?"

She stuck her chin out defiantly, taking him in her hand. "I missed your _cock_, House." He laughed heartily, and she felt his body shake between her legs. "There's also a word _you_ don't like," she reminded him.

"Not true. I love all dirty words."

"Really? So you wanna _thrust _it in me, House?" she asked. He laughed harder.

"I don't dislike it. It just isn't sexy. Too fancy. Makes me think of fencing."

Cuddy sat up a little and lowered herself onto him, watching his eyes slide shut. "Is that right?" she teased him. "Thrusting your cock into me isn't sexy? It makes you think of fencing? Right now you're thinking about fencing?"

"The word… fuck… not the…mmmm… not the… act." He was holding her hips, lifting his pelvis to meet her as he tried to push her down harder on him.

Cuddy smiled smugly, moving very deliberately on him and loving the fact that she was messing him up. He couldn't even speak, which was impossibly rare, and she was delighted. Not to mention the fact that the sensation of him filling her, sliding inside of her, was deliriously perfect.

House was overcome. He was goddamn overcome. He was in love with her, and not stoned enough to deal with that. He was twenty-four years old and forty-eight and ninety all at once, with her. He was inside of her, but – huger - she was metaphorically inside of him. All these years, he couldn't get near her and couldn't get away from her. And in that moment, he'd have done anything for her – resignation, rehab, death, hell, even emotional expression. He'd do anything to keep them right like this.

He slid an arm up her back, his hand reaching her neck, and rolled her onto her back. He buried his face in her neck as he continued pushing into her. He kissed her breasts and Cuddy released little gasps of delight. She felt his hands slide up her arms, reaching her wrists and grasping them to pin them above her head. Cuddy tucked her knees back, wanting to feel him deeper. He moved slow and hard, each thrust pushing her closer to the edge while he just watched her face, eager to see it when she fell.

"House, I'm right there…" she moaned.

"I know. I see you." And that was it for her. Her arms strained again his as she rocked and bucked and rode her orgasm from gasping beginning to sighing end. And he felt her contracting around him, watched her lovely face overcome with pleasure, and felt her curves and valleys twisting beneath his body. He couldn't resist joining her mid-way, feeling that insane feeling simultaneously. He came again, falling to his elbows and pressing his face to hers. As he came down he slowly melted onto her, and soon their legs were tangled, their fingers entwined.

He slid to the side to allow her to breathe, and he ran his hand over her skin – something he couldn't seem to stop doing – and admired her body. "How do you look even better than when you were twenty?" he murmured.

Cuddy smiled. "I traded pizza and beer for kale and tofu," she joked. She opened her eyes and ran a hand over his bicep. "What's your secret?"

"Similar. Traded pizza and beer for Vicodin and scotch."

Cuddy smiled sleepily. "The addiction diet. Nice. You should write a book."

"I intend to," he replied. "Right after this drink." He found the edge of a sheet and tucked her in next to him, trapping her at his side, at least for tonight.

[H] [H] [H]

The rest of the night, the entire weekend really, was a blur of sex and laughter and lips bitten in both ecstasy and self-protective second-guessing of what they had started here. They barely slept. The smoothness of her legs would rub along his as she rolled over and he'd be roused enough to need her again, finding her and entering her even while half asleep, running his fingers over her clit, tasting whatever was within his mouth's reach. They barely ate. They'd order food delivered and tasting his dish would inspire her to climb on him, tasting his mouth instead while she chose orgasm over nutrition again and again. They could not satisfy themselves. It seemed every encounter, no matter how mind-blowingly perfect, only whet their appetites for each other more.

Sunday evening, Cuddy finally broached the topic of needing to go home. House responded wordlessly, picking her up and awkwardly limping to the bedroom under her weight while she laughed, throwing her on the bed and gliding his lips and tongue up and down her body until she was begging him to fuck her one more time before the real world got involved. He wanted to hear her moan his name one more time. He wanted to feel her shaking in his arms one more time. He wanted to memorize it all so he'd have something left after he screwed this all up.

They lay there in a sticky, sweaty, delirious pile of limbs with happy smiles playing on their lips. House ran a hand along her arm. He thought back to the night twenty years ago, when he could have said things he didn't, things that might have changed his whole life.

"I didn't just wanna get laid, you know," he said quietly.

Cuddy tilted her head that was lying on his chest up toward his face. "No? I suppose you want a raise now too." House laughed a little, shook his head. He swallowed hard and she felt his self-consciousness.

"Don't worry, House. You don't have to say anything." Cuddy propped herself on an elbow and looked at him. He gave her a little embarrassed grin. "I'm fully aware that this was a marriage proposal." His grin opened into a wide smile.

"I was just going to ask you to join a couples' bowling league, but okay," he teased.

She smiled back. "Let's just give something in between those two options a try, shall we?"

"Like, dating?" he asked.

"I guess."

House nodded. "How many dates does it usually take before you're allowed to be in love with someone?"

Cuddy blinked, sucked in her breath a little. She smiled tentatively and shrugged. "Depends, I guess."

"I guess knowing you're in love and saying it are two different things," he commented. Cuddy nodded, her mind reeling. "So on the one hand, falling in love on the first 'date' seems pretty aggressive," he explained, "But waiting for twenty years after that date to tell her seems conservative." Cuddy's chest ached, it was so full of love for him. "Kinda chicken-shit, actually. Waiting that long." He locked eyes with her. "So I'm pretty much damned if I do and damned if I don't."

"Maybe you're overthinking it," she teased him.

"Maybe…" He tucked his free hand behind his head and stared at the ceiling. "But confessing to a woman that she's been under my skin since the first time I saw her wear sweatpants to class, and that I craved her since the first time I made her laugh, and that I almost told her I was falling in love after sleeping with her but thought better of it, and that she has always been in my brain, even when she shouldn't have been… That's big stuff, Cuddy."

Cuddy blinked at him, then hid her face in a pillow, which he had no idea how to interpret. "You're a mess!" she declared in a muffled proclamation.

"Pretty much," he agreed.

"And we're dysfunctional!" she added, turning her face out of the pillow.

House rolled on his side and faced her, their noses almost touching. "Everyone is."

Cuddy took a deep breath. "I can't not love you," she admitted. "I've tried for decades. It's a futile effort."

House made a faked surprised look. "Love? This is moving a little fast for me, Cuddy." She smacked his arm.

"I can't not love you too." He put a hand to her face, ran his thumb over her cheek. "I never even really tried."

"Lazy."

"Efficient," he corrected. "Accepting I'm in love with you gives me more time for porn and substance abuse."

She laughed and he swallowed the sound in his mouth. "I have to actually put clothes on," she told him, her words getting smothered by his lips. "I have to go home. Get ready for work tomorrow…" She knew she'd always be the one to say things like this, but didn't really mind. She needed someone who wasn't listening. She wriggled away from his groping paws and searched for her underwear, remembering and padding to the living room and back. He watched her and tried to let the happiness take hold, to let it squelch his fear and belief that there was no way he could be this fortunate. She raided his drawers for a tee shirt and sweats to wear in lieu of Friday's dress which still sat in a heap on the living room floor. He was lying naked on the sheets still when she was dressed enough to actually leave. She stared at him, not wanting to go.

"Come with me," she suggested.

"Okay," he replied immediately.

"Unless you don't want to."

"I want to."

"We have to eat."

"Mmm-hmm."

"We have to sleep."

"Yup."

She put her hands on her hips. "We can't let this get out of control."

He saw her left finger tap her hip, and smiled.


End file.
